


No Good Deed

by JudithLestrange



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudithLestrange/pseuds/JudithLestrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has fucked up. Unfortunately, his Aunt Bellatrix is only too happy to show him the error of his ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Good Deed

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks ever so much to my lovely beta Emmasexual – any remaining mistakes are my own. Thanks also to Amorette for a prompt that made me write my first ever attempt at porn – I hope I did it justice. If not there's always next time, eh? Any feedback would be gratefully received – think of it as a way of saving yourselves form future ham-fisted attempts at NC-17-rated fest fics...

“Here you are!” His aunt drifted down the stairs to meet them at the door. She was smiling. Draco decided his situation must be even worse than he expected if Bellatrix Lestrange was happy to see him. 

Rodolphus hadn't had much to say when he arrived at the safe house to collect Draco. He had simply nodded at Snape and told Draco to pack his things. Draco didn't have much, but he had strung out the moment for as long as he dared. 

For all his cutting comments, Draco had finally realised that Snape was safe in a world where there was very little safety to be had. His uncle by marriage was entirely unremarkable, except for the woman whom he had chosen to marry. Bellatrix Lestrange was the complete opposite of what anyone still possessing their sanity may regard as ‘safe’. Draco's stomach had filled with butterflies at Rodolphus’ arrival, to the point where he was afraid he would get sick and vomit into the trunk holding his belongings. 

Ever since that night at the top of the Astronomy Tower Draco had been waiting for his punishment. A week ago Snape had dispassionately informed him that the Dark Lord intended spare his life and that Draco was to be returning to Hogwarts at the end of the summer. Draco had drawn a long, heaving breath of relief that ended up more like a sob, while Snape had looked pointedly in the other direction. The Dark Lord was not known for his forgiving nature. Since then, Draco had tormented himself imagining exotic methods of torture, all of which left him alive but begging for death once the Dark Lord was through with him. 

His Aunt had not featured in his fantasies, but Draco realised it made a terrifying deal of sense to put her in charge of making him regret his failures. Bellatrix had never been one to overlook the shortcomings of her relatives, no matter how pure their blood. 

“My very dearest dear,” Bella said, forcing his chin up with her sharp thumbnail. “I'm so glad to see you. You will be staying with us for while, of course.” 

Draco's heart hammered so loudly he was surprised Rodolphus and Bellatrix didn't complain about the racket he was making. His aunt's eyes were beautiful up close, deep pools of brown sparkling with mirth and a hint of madness. As always, she scared the shit out of Draco. 

“You have disgraced our family. Yet again, I had to stand before the Dark Lord and explain why my blood is falling short.” There was no whimsy in her tone now and Draco shivered. “I think I know what the problem is with you, dear Nephew. There's too much Malfoy in you. Too much of that man.” His aunt had made no secret of her contempt for his father since she’d broken out from Azkaban, and Draco had long since stopped defending him. 

He suspected he might need some defending himself, soon, but there was no one here to help him – Rodolphus rarely spoke unless he had to, and whenever he did it was to agree with his wife. 

“So we shall see if making you into a girl will improve matters,” Bellatrix announced brightly. 

“What?” Draco didn't think he had heard right. 

“Oh, you will be punished too. I just want to see if we can bring some Black blood to the fore at the same time.” Bella’s yellowing teeth showed when she smiled, revealing a gap on the left hand side. Azkaban didn't have any dentists, Draco remembered, and wondered if it would be better to seek protective custody. Then again, the Ministry would probably fall soon. 

He was stuck here, with his mute uncle and mad aunt. 

Bellatrix’s hands ran down Draco’s shoulders, nipping in at his waist and then out around his hips. It was the most intimate touch he had felt since his mother had kissed him goodbye after the Easter holidays. Draco almost leaned into it before he caught himself and pulled away. Bella didn't seem to notice, intent on her handiwork. 

“There,” she announced. Draco felt fabric tighten in unusual places, and looked down. His robes were now unmistakably of the female variety – she had even changed the fabric to something clingy with a faint sheen. 

“Doesn't she look nice, Rolph?” Bella cooed. “Lovely, lovely waist – I wish mine were still like that!” 

Draco felt a slow blush creeping up from his throat, burning his cheeks. He couldn't think of anything to say that would improve matters. It was better to keep his head down and hope she soon would get bored of him. 

“Let me show you to your room – no doubt you'll want to freshen up after your Apparition.” Bella took Draco’s arm and led him up the stairs, pausing only to Transfigure his boots into high heels that made him stumble in her wake. 

How the _fuck_ did women walk in these?

* * *

Dinner was served at eight. Draco sat in the middle of the long table with his host and hostess at either end. He stared down at his plate as if wielding the correct cutlery was an almost insurmountable challenge. 

Conversation was desultory; Bella made announcements and Rodolphus grunted in response. When the meal finally was over a bottle of port appeared on the table, Bella rose and looked expectantly at Draco, who scrambled out of his seat. 

“See you later, darling,” she told her husband. “Don't rush – we have plenty to talk about while you're having your port.” She didn't look back, certain that Draco would follow her into the drawing room. 

He did. What else could he do?

* * *

Draco had been squeezed into a dainty armchair and was balancing a cup of tea in one hand. His aunt had grabbed his other hand, effectively immobilising him. 

“I understand it's hard for you, my lovely. It must be very confusing.” She leant even closer and Draco smelled the wine on her breath.

“Such a pity about your hair. So short.” Bella caressed his face, following the line of his hair from ear to ear. “But we must not allow little setbacks to get us down. You're not saying much – are you not excited?” 

“I'm –” Draco tried to think of something to say that might make things better rather than worse. He failed. “I'll do whatever you want.” 

“Oh, you will.” The Dark Lord's lieutenant replaced the act, and there was suddenly steel in her gaze. “Perhaps a demonstration might be in order, since you're so eager to please?” 

Rodolphus was still drinking port; they had only been here for about five minutes, if the clock on the mantelpiece was at all accurate. 

“Yes,” Draco managed. “Anything you like.”

* * *

“Isn't she pretty?” 

When Rodolphus finally appeared, a little unsteady on his legs, Draco was surrounded by a wealth of little boxes and jars, containing the various beauty products that Bella had owned before she had been sent to Azkaban after the first war. The preservation charms had mostly held, although some of the powders had crumbled in their boxes. 

Draco had not been allowed to see his reflection yet. He was kept waiting for the big reveal. When a mirror was finally conjured, he was surprised to see there wasn't much difference. All that time and nothing to show for it. He plastered on a smile and pretended to be pleased, whilst his Uncle got away with another grunt. 

“You've had a long day. Better get to bed or you will be exhausted tomorrow.” It wasn't a suggestion, and Draco got up hastily. 

“Good night.” 

“And what do well-brought up girls do?” Bella was all wide, expectant eyes, and he finally caught on and attempted a courtesy.

“Well done. You may have your first bedtime spanking tomorrow instead, to let you get settled in tonight.” 

Draco had almost let his guard down, thinking he would be out of danger at last, but the word 'spanking' set his pulse racing and he couldn't seem to hear anything else for several minutes. Somehow he got out of the drawing room, hurrying up the stairs as if the Order of the Phoenix was after him. 

He – he was a Malfoy. A Death Eater. Bellatrix could not be allowed – but despite what Draco wanted to tell himself, he knew very well there was nobody to stop her from doing exactly as she pleased. Draco couldn't stop picturing what it would be like, being only vaguely familiar with the concept. Was she going to use a cane? Or would it be like a child's spanking, over her knee? 

There was nowhere to run – his wand had been taken from him, and even with it Draco didn't rate his chances of survival. He had his parents to think of, as well. Staring into the shadows dancing across his bedroom ceiling Draco didn't feel very brave. He would have to take whatever was dished out to him. 

At least he wouldn't have to kill anyone, and there was no one else there that he could be forced to hurt. It would take more than Mudblood Granger's stupid society to make him worry about the Lestrange house-elves.

* * *

The next day seemed like an interminable wait for evening to come. Draco was set tasks to complete throughout the day. He did his best to fold uncooperative bed sheets and dust mantelpieces without knocking anything over, fearful of the consequences if he did. 

He was trying to work out how to reach the top shelf in the library without the ladder, which, naturally, required magic to work, when the swishing sound of robes and a sharp clattering of heels against the stone tiles announced his Aunt's arrival. 

“Get down!” she snapped, and Draco reluctantly climbed down from the footstool he'd placed on top of an armchair to reach the topmost shelves, trying not to stumble in his high heels. He swayed a little, but managed to right himself by grabbing a bookcase. When he let go, he noticed his hand was shaking. 

“I'm – I'm almost finished,” he stammered. “It's just hard to reach –”

“I – don't – care. Do as you're told, or you will face the consequences. I always thought Cissy was too soft on you.” Bellatrix pursed her lips in disapproval, and then, she smiled. 

It was terrifying; Draco almost wet himself. 

“Let's see if a little incentive helps, shall we?” She swung around and marched out of the room, pointing her wand at him without even turning around as though he were unworthy of her notice. 

Nothing happened at first, then Draco felt a burning sensation on the soles of his feet. It grew more and more intense until he couldn’t stand still any longer and had to move. The burning subsided slightly; he tried another few steps and his feet cooled further still. As soon as Draco stopped moving, however, the burning started anew.

* * *

Draco was flushed and angry and uncomfortable by the end of the afternoon. He kept moving constantly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to relieve the pain, but he was still burning up. When the clock struck seven the charm was finally lifted, and Draco felt a great wave of relief until he remembered what was waiting for him after dinner. 

It couldn't be worse than this, could it?

* * *

Dinner was excruciating. Draco should have been listening for news, trying to glean an idea of whether the Dark Lord would strike soon, but all he could think about was what was waiting for him before he could finally seek refuge in his bedroom for the night. 

A spanking. 

Neither of Draco’s parents had ever raised their hand (or wand) against him, so he had no idea what it would be like. 

“She's not eating much. Do you think she's nervous?” 

Draco realised they were talking about him, and kept his gaze fixed on his plate as though his life depended on it. 

Rodolphus mumbled something that Draco couldn't make out. 

“Maybe, darling. I think it will do her a world of good. She needs a firm hand.” 

“Yours, you mean? Or mine?” This time Rodolphus actually sounded interested, and Draco cringed. 

“I haven't decided yet.” 

That kept Draco busy over the next course; which one would be worse? He still hadn't made his mind up when the port was brought in and his Aunt grabbed his hand. She was much stronger than she looked. 

“Come, my sweet. Let’s leave dear Rodolphus alone to ponder the ills of the world over his port.”

Draco followed her reluctantly; almost wishing for the burning in his feet to return, at least he'd got through that – maybe this wouldn't be so bad? 

“I think –” Bellatrix bit her plump bottom lip thoughtfully, then, having made up her mind, continued. “Yes, I think I shall go ahead alone.” She beckoned to Draco. “Come here, my dearest. Prepare yourself.” 

Draco didn't think he could have moved, even if he'd wanted to. 

“Go on, I don't have all night. Get ready!” 

“I –” He didn't know what to say. Bella drew her own, erroneous conclusion. 

“Of course, you haven't been punished properly before. This time, I'll show you. The next time,” Draco's heart sank even further, “I expect you to do it yourself. First, you take of your robes.” She flicked her wand and the robes landed on the chair next to hers. Draco felt curiously undressed with his legs on show. 

“Then, your underthings.” Draco's cheeks burned scarlet as he felt the draft caress his privates. He instinctively moved his hands to cover himself, only to feel the smack of Bellatrix’s wand across his knuckles. 

“Oh no, you don't. Now, I might decide to send you to the corner –” She pointed at an empty corner opposite the fireplace, devoid of any ornaments. “– or perhaps to kneel across a chair for a while.” Bella smiled, tucking away a loose curl behind her ear. “Not today, though. I think I'd like to examine that delectable behind of yours, and give it a good seeing-to. I've been looking forward to it all day.” 

Draco noticed his hands were shaking, and he was still just standing there, unable to move. He wasn't left upright for much longer, however. Bella motioned with her wand in his direction, and he somehow ended up right next to her. Effortlessly, she pulled him down across her lap, face-first, giving him a good push so his face ended up full of carpet. 

“I –” he tried again, wriggling to get up, but he was firmly held in place by hot little hands and spells. He could move just a little, but he was just as securely bound as if he'd been tied into place. 

“Eventually,” he jumped at the sensation of a palm on his arse, “I expect you to get into position yourself. Or you will be punished further.” 

Draco shivered, and Bella laughed. It was a throaty sound, rich and unhurried. “I'm so pleased it's I who will be breaking you in, my dear Niece.” A sharp smack landed on his cheek, then another on the opposite side. She alternated sides, sometimes lingering on the same spot. 

At first, Draco was relieved it wasn't worse – it was unpleasant and humiliating and a little sore, but all in all it wasn't that painful. 

Bella continued unhurriedly, as if she intended to go on all night. He could feel heat building beneath his skin, remaining after the sting of the slap was gone. Slowly, very slowly, it became uncomfortable and then sore, and she still kept spanking. Draco wondered how long it had been going on for – surely she must let him up soon? 

Four sharp smacks hit the same spot in quick succession, taking him by surprise. Draco moaned, to Bella's apparent delight. 

“We're only just getting started, darling. I dare say a Muggle may have given up by now, but I haven't even worked up a sweat. That's a lovely glow you have there.” She caressed his thighs and Draco doubled his efforts to escape the magical hold he was in, to no avail.

“You may wriggle as much as you like. Tonight.” She spanked him again, hard, and Draco didn't know if he should worry most about the threat or the present. 

Soon, he couldn't concentrate on anything much, other than the throbbing heat in his bottom that slowly was turning into real pain. To his disgust, Draco couldn't stop himself from wriggling constantly – he was even kicking his legs. He was panting, with tears welling up, and there was no end in sight. Suddenly Draco realised he would break into sobs any moment, and desperately tried to contain himself. It was no use – another ten sharp smacks, and he was bawling like a little girl. 

“Please,” he hiccuped after a few minutes, when there still was no sign that Bellatrix had any intention of stopping soon. “Please, I'll do anything you anything you want –” 

“Promise me you'll be a good girl, and it will be over. For tonight.” Her voice was full of laughter, Draco had never hated anyone like he hated his aunt in that moment. At least Potter treated him like an equal, not a fucking toy. 

“Please,” he blubbered, too sore and humiliated to even consider rebelling, “I'll be a good girl, I promise. Please stop.”

“Very well, then. You'd better make yourself presentable – your uncle will be coming up soon.” 

A soon as he was allowed to get up Draco rubbed his bottom, trying to ease the sting, but at the reminder there were more people in this world than just the two of them he let his hands fall. 

“Naturally, if he finds out I've punished you he'll want to have his turn. I suggest you compose yourself unless you want seconds.” 

“No!” Draco almost fell over in his attempt to pull up the horrible woman's knickers he was forced to wear before Rodolphus entered the room. 

“It will be our little secret, then.” Bellatrix beamed at him, Draco looked away. 

He tried to clean up the snot and tears, and restored his clothing as best he could. Ten minutes later, when his uncle ambled in, Draco had barely managed to sit down on his sore bottom without yelping. He couldn't sit still, but tried to shift his weigh unobtrusively every few seconds to ease the pain a bit. The Lestranges had their usual evening conversation, mixing Bellatrix' pronouncements with Rodolophus' grunts, until Draco was allowed to go upstairs. He almost broke into a run as he approached his room, despite the bloody heels, before he could finally close the door behind him. 

There was no lock on the door and Draco had no wand, but at last there was an inch of solid oak between him and the Lestranges.

* * *

Draco woke with a start, remembering pleasing, soft hands and eager whispers. Whatever he'd been dreaming about had been a lot better than his present situation. His cock was still hard – 

Someone was still stroking it, Draco realised; he caught a whiff of Bellatrix' perfume and screamed. 

She let go. “Oh, you're awake. I'm told it's much better then – is it true?” Her wand was lit, and in the faint light the shadows under her eyes made her look centuries old. 

“I – I don't want to –” Draco didn't know what she was doing, but he was sure he wanted none of it. 

“Little darling, it doesn't matter what you want. You're a girl, remember? This thing is mine.” Bellatrix grabbed his cock and he instinctively tried to break away, only to realise he was just as securely bound by her charms as he had been earlier that evening, “Maybe I'll be a better Black than either of my male cousins, who knows.” 

Draco was suddenly petrified – how mad was she? Was she going to cut it off? Draco’s thoughts must have shown on his face, or else she was using Legilimency on him, because she laughed again. 

“Don't worry, I'll let you keep it. The Dark Lord may have use for more little Malfoys, after all.” 

His fear of a fate worse than death assuaged, Draco’s thoughts returned to worrying about his current situation. His aunt – wasn't this incest, or something? Why would she even –

She eventually got it just right, and for a second pleasure shut down the rest of his brain. When he resurfaced, she was laughing. 

“Just let go, my sweet. You know you don't have a choice.” 

Her delight in his helplessness made Draco angry enough to struggle again, even though it was futile. Not many other hands had touched him there, and he just couldn't stop himself from moaning out loud as he got closer. Imagining Potter naked – imagining Dumbledore falling – nothing could halt the inevitable. 

“There's a good girl, come for me now,” she coaxed. Draco did, with a shudder and a sob. 

Bellatrix left him lying flat on his back, right on his throbbing, sore bottom, unable to move to clean up his drying cum. Every little detail served to remind him he was completely powerless and at her mercy. If she had any, that was. 

Draco sobbed again, long past any shame attached to crying. He wished – he wished he'd done things differently. 

Everything. 

Once he survived this summer, he would still have to go back to Hogwarts. Draco would still be a Death Eater, still pledged to serve the Dark Lord. How could he possibly have fucked his life up this badly before he was even of age? 

Perhaps it was only right that Draco was punished, even though it was for all the wrong reasons.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/33765.html)! ♥


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